


how far, how near, boy.

by redhoods



Series: fictober 2019. [9]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Scenting, Sharing a Bed, ingrid is rightfully suspicious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 05:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21031118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: The knocking starts again, like whoever it is is trying to be respectful of the hour but isn’t sure how to be quiet and get the attention they want.Pushing out of the blankets, he pads to the door and isn’t all that surprised to find Sylvain on the other side. He’s in a sleep shirt and no pants, his hair an absolute mess of short spiky curls around his head. His nostrils flare as soon as the door is fully open, shoulders sinking in apparent relief. Felix frowns at him, “Too much?”





	how far, how near, boy.

**Author's Note:**

> fictober. cursed. i love werewolf lore and i can't imagine a werewolf with keyed up senses would take a new place filled with so many people very easily.
> 
> this isn't quite what i wanted it to be when i started it, but i like what it brings to the au so like... here, i guess. this week is probably gonna add a lot to this au because it's all i can think about.
> 
> title from familiar ground by the cinematic orchestra. listen, this series is just going to be an embarrassing show of how many songs i remember from teen wolf and the vampire diaries. whatever.

IMPERIAL YEAR 1180  
GUARDIAN TREE MOON  
GARREG MACH MONASTERY

Tap.

Tap tap tap. 

Thunk. 

Felix hisses quietly as he rolls over and glares at his door. He’d been certain it was someone else’s door that was being knocked on. Sound travels along the dorm hall, echoing back and forth across the stone. It’s only the first night and he can already tell that it’s going to be obnoxious very fast. 

The knocking starts again, like whoever it is is trying to be respectful of the hour but isn’t sure how to be quiet and get the attention they want. 

Pushing out of the blankets, he pads to the door and isn’t all that surprised to find Sylvain on the other side. He’s in a sleep shirt and no pants, his hair an absolute mess of short spiky curls around his head. His nostrils flare as soon as the door is fully open, shoulders sinking in apparent relief. Felix frowns at him, “Too much?”

Sylvain nods, “I can smell _everything_,” he says, plaintive and pitiful, sliding into the room as soon as Felix gives him the space to do so, “I can hear people snoring too,” he adds quietly. 

“Be glad the boar’s not here then,” Felix points out as he pushes the door shut and turns to watch.

It’s strange that he’s gotten used to this, to Sylvain and his new, strange habits. The way he draws his fingertips over every piece of furniture in the room, his nostrils flaring as he moves about. Felix had overheard a few girls today talking about Sylvain breaking into a sneezing fit when he’d gotten too close to one of them. 

He hadn’t bothered trying to feel anything but vindictively satisfied about it. 

“Smells like sword oil and metal and you,” Sylvain says after three loops of the room, “and a little like me,” he adds as he comes to stand in front of Felix, their bare toes bumping. 

Felix elbows him as he passes to the bed, “Come on, you can stay tonight,” he offers. Shoving the covers down, he tips down against the sheets and scoots to the wall, “Don’t expect this every night.”

“Course not,” Sylvain replies, even though they both know Felix would let him if he wanted. It takes no time for them to get comfortable, already familiar with each other and how they fit together. Once Sylvain is settled up against his back, their legs tangled and blankets half off the end of the bed, he asks, “Can I steal some of your stuff?”

He can feel the rumble of Sylvain’s chest against his back and breathes out, relaxing impossibly further as he yawns, jaw cracking, “You can have a blanket.”

“What about a shirt?” Sylvain’s nosing against his hair like the weirdo he is. 

Sighing, Felix finds one of his hands, thumbs against the lines on his palm, “If you help me do my laundry, I don’t care.”

The rumbling purr starts around then, now familiar and almost comforting, “Deal. I’m great at laundry.”

“Liar.”

“I’m great at carrying laundry?”

“Mm, you’re absolutely going to be carrying it up and down the stairs,” Felix says and tangles their fingers together against his own chest. 

Sylvain exhales against his throat and nudges a kiss there, “Night, Fe.”

“Good night, Sylvain.”

\------

When he wakes in the morning, he’s sprawled on Sylvain’s chest and Sylvain is taking up the whole bed by what seems like sheer force of will, arms and legs spread wide. And he’s snuffling in his sleep, little wuffs that Felix will never admit are cute, nor will he ever mention to Sylvain that he does the same thing as a wolf.

He’s not even sure if it can be attributed to Sylvain’s new moon related issues or if it’s just _Sylvain_.

It’s easy to slide off the bed, careful of his elbows and knees, to dress quietly.

He doesn’t think it’d matter if he were loud, the way Sylvain is sleeping, but he buckles on his sword belt and slips out the door, letting it close quietly behind him.

There’s no one in the hallways, not that he’s expecting anyone.

Classes won’t start for a few more days, when the house leaders return from their little camping trip with the knights, but Felix doesn’t plan to sit idly around in the meantime. The training grounds should be empty this early and he’s going to take advantage before breakfast.

The training grounds are empty when he arrives and he inhales the crisp morning air and settles into his warm up stretches.

He’s practicing his swings, his footwork, when the doors open. It doesn’t slow his process any, even as footsteps approach him.

“Felix,” it’s Ingrid.

“Good morning,” he says as charitably as he can manage, which is a surprising amount really. He’d slept well and hasn’t had to deal with anyone else as of yet.

She knows better than to expect him to stop, merely moves out of the way of his steps when he rotates in her direction, “What’s going on with you and Sylvain?” He’s been waiting for it, really, wondering how long it would take before she asked, because it would be her. No one else knows them as well aside from Dimitri, but Felix doesn’t think Dimitri would notice even if Sylvain were to shift right in front of his eyes.

He exhales, swings up with his sword through the air, then brings it back level with his hips, exhales again and relaxes his posture, twisting his wrist, “What do you mean?”

They haven’t talked about it yet, he and Sylvain, what they’re going to tell people. Felix isn’t even sure if anyone knows aside from, he hopes, some of the monastery staff. People are going to notice though, he thinks, Sylvain’s got a reputation.

Even though Felix knows for a fact that Sylvain’s barely gone out with any girls in the last year at least.

And here? At the monastery? With so many people, so many scents? Sylvain’s going to get overwhelmed, especially to start out, before he starts adjusting, and Felix isn’t going to kid himself into thinking that he won’t be the person that Sylvain’s going to come to.

Like last night.

“You two seem closer than you did before...” she trails off and they both grimace, looking away from each other.

Felix pushes some loose strands behind his ear, “We spent a lot of the last year together,” which is the truth, “My father has been helping the Margrave with the Sreng,” also the truth. Though when he lifts his gaze, Ingrid is looking at him, narrowed eyes, like she knows he’s withholding.

He scowls at her and looks away, “What does it matter? Are we not allowed to be close now?”

She steps away, “You know that’s not what I’m saying, Felix.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs quietly, steps back into his start position, “ask Sylvain about it, if you’re so worried.”

She sighs loudly and he clenches his jaw, listens to her retreating footsteps.

\-----

Sylvain joins him at breakfast, slumps down into the chair and steals bread right off his plate, “You were gone early,” he says quietly, when he leans in to do so, then sits back, shoving half the roll into his mouth at once, table manners be damned as he adds, “Ingrid cornered me outside the room.”

Grimacing, Felix bumps their knees, “Chew your damn food.” He looks away, taking a drink of water and flicking his gaze down the table. “What did you tell her?”

There’s a long moment where he simply picks at his plate, waiting for Sylvain to hopefully finish the roll before he speaks again, “That I was looking for you,” he knocks their knees again under the table and then leaves them pressed together.

Felix pushes his plate in front of Sylvain, “She didn’t believe you.”

“Nope,” Sylvain wastes no time digging into the food with a gusto that he’s only recently started showing. Apparently another aspect of the wolf thing, his metabolism ratcheted up three hundred percent. Or so he says.

“Of course, I didn’t,” Ingrid declares, appearing almost out of nowhere, sinking into the seat across from them with a plate of her own.

Felix wants to flee, but Sylvain nudges his knee until their thighs are pressed together.

She sniffs at the both of them, disdain not Sylvain’s version of sniffing, “I don’t see why you’re hiding—” she pauses and waves her fork between the two of them, eyebrows dancing meaningfully, “—whatever this is from me.”

Sylvain chokes on the water he’d been drinking out of Felix’s glass and Felix laughs, both at Sylvain and Ingrid, head tipping back as his shoulders shake. When he looks, Sylvain is wiping water from under his nose and he laughs a little harder.

Ingrid looks disgruntled by this development.

“We’re not,” Sylvain says, eyebrows drawing together as he looks to Felix, who offers him no help, miming wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s not—” he sighs greatly, “You’re missing a piece of the puzzle.”

She squints at them both, eyes shrewd as she flicks her gaze between the two of them, “So tell me,” she settles on eventually. The more things change, the more it becomes obvious when some things never do. Like Ingrid.

Felix looks at Sylvain, who seems to notice very belatedly that both of them are looking at him, mouthful of food.

Sighing, Sylvain swallows and waves a hand, “Maybe later.”

Ingrid opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, huffs loudly, “I have ways, Sylvain,” she says, one eyebrow arching up.

Sylvain doesn’t even blink, Felix is a little proud, “Sure, Ingrid, I’m not nine anymore and I’m not ticklish anymore either,” and both are true. The first is a given and he can see Ingrid squinting again, like she’s trying to decide if the second is actually true.

Not that Felix can imagine Ingrid sitting on them anymore, trying to tickle secrets out of them like she had when they were kids. Or like Sylvain had let her. He’d always been the biggest of them, still is, even if he and Dimitri are about the same height now. Thinking about that though, makes him wonder how their strengths would match up.

Dimitri’s always been absurdly strong, but now Sylvain is supernaturally strong as well.

He misses some of the conversation trying to match them up in his head, the way he saw Dimitri two years ago versus the way he’s seen Sylvain lift a stuck cart out of a rut in the road without breaking a sweat.

“Fe,” Sylvain snaps in his face and he blinks, “Wow, it was like you were in a different world there for a minute.”

Felix snaps his teeth at Sylvain’s hand.

Ingrid is looking between the two of them skeptically, “Are you sure you aren’t—” she makes a weird gesture with her hands.

“He couldn’t handle me,” Felix says.

Sylvain nods next to him, “It’s true, I’d be out of my depths.”

She still looks skeptical.

Maybe she’s onto something though, Felix thinks, maybe it would be easier if people thought there was something going between them, as if they won’t simply assume that anyways. He’ll have to bring it up to Sylvain some other time.

When Sylvain’s head isn’t tilted, cocked like he’s listening to something far away.

They’ve got to work on that too.

Ingrid doesn’t seem to notice now though, because Annette is sitting next to her now and they fall into a conversation about something that Felix doesn’t care about, waiting for Sylvain to finish eavesdropping on whatever conversation he’s picked up on.

Eventually Sylvain settles, tipping in so their arms are almost brushing, “The others are back,” he says lowly, “Apparently they were attacked by bandits and mercenaries saved them,” he explains, “Jeralt the Blade Breaker was one of them.”

Felix whistles lowly.

Word will spread around the monastery like wildfire in no time.

He steals his glass back, tips back the last of his water before he stands, “I’m going back to train.”

Sylvain huffs at him, “It wouldn’t kill you to take a break, you know,” he says, though makes no move to actually stop him.

“You take enough breaks for us both,” he points out. Strength or no strength, Sylvain could still hone his skills, but chooses not to. “Come find me if something interesting happens.”

“You know I will,” Sylvain winks at him and Felix scoffs as he walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @vowofenmity on twitter


End file.
